


Mine is Just a Slower Sacrifice

by grayintogreen



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, gotg vol 2 spoilers, introspective piece, please let rocket be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayintogreen/pseuds/grayintogreen
Summary: And Rocket?Rocket picks up the pieces. For the second time, because this is what he does now.





	Mine is Just a Slower Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Dear God, please let whoever Rocket bonds with in Infinity War live, because this poor fur-child needs to experience joy, even if he is a little dick.

Rocket knew it was a bad idea to keep quiet before he even _decided_ he was going to keep quiet. The only thing worse than knowing that your friends aren't as pragmatic and rational as you are is knowing they're going to take out just how _not_ pragmatic and rational they are out on you. Especially because, to the untrained eye, the little shit that gave Quill so much grief and started this whole mess just left him to die, and maybe it should bother him more that it does make a hell of a lot of sense that they'd assume that.

 

But they would have never let Yondu do it- they didn't even know him that well, but he'd entered the sacred trust by helping them save the galaxy (since that's all that it really takes to join this friggin' family), and that meant he didn't get to die stupid. They'd have tried to do something. Tried and failed. Just like he tried and failed with Groot. He really has to stop and wonder if he has one of those faces that says, "Please look me in the eye, and let me know how much dying will mean to you if it means someone else can live or if it means making up for years of mistakes."

 

_Please look me in the eye and explain to me what it's like to be that unselfish, because I sure as hell don't know_.

 

But the point is, he shouldn't have kept quiet. Drax eventually barrels down into the hangar and takes stock of the damage- Gamora unconscious; Nebula awkwardly hovering in the corner; Mantis groaning as she wakes...

 

And Rocket, still staring at the closed hangar doors with the gun he used to subdue Gamora dangling uselessly from his arms. It's a pretty damning scene, all things considered, which is why when Drax grabs him by the back of his collar and starts shaking him, he doesn't start spitting and hissing. "Where's **_Quill_**?" He roars, giving Rocket another shake so hard that the buckles holding the body armor on his back threaten to snap. 

 

Rocket narrows his eyes and holds Drax's gaze with intensity to match the Destroyer's own, his teeth curling back from his muzzle to show how thin his patience is. He wouldn't take this without someone losing an eye on any other day, but he has a lot of people to be angry at right now and Drax doesn't make the list. At this second, anyway. All he has to do is say three words. Three horrible, _terrible_ little words.

 

By now Ego's so much ash and stardust, so he can safely say them without worrying that someone else might make this side of "the edge of what's known" their grave, "Yondu's getting him."

 

\--

 

The _Quadrant_ is bigger than the _Milano_ , but the Guardians are so used to a small space that they stay on top of each other anyway. Peter and Kraglin talk in hushed tones about Ravager funeral arrangements (and Rocket pretends he doesn't hear Kraglin lamenting that there'll be no one there to fly their colors and send him off proper), Drax consoles Mantis who has just lost an entire world (literally and figuratively) and the truth of that is starting to overwhelm her. Gamora (after comforting Peter as much as she can) sits next to Nebula in silence and the two seem to be speaking volumes while just being in close proximity. And Rocket?

 

Rocket picks up the pieces. For the second time, because this is what he does now. 

 

Thrown bodily from a Kree warship? Drag your ass to the biggest pile of twigs that used to be your friend you can find.

 

Doomsday clock ticking down, forcing you to leave the only person who's ever laid out your damage in terms you can face, so he can make amends to a lifetime of mistakes through sacrifice? Pick up the pieces of his broken magic arrow.

 

And that's where he is now, with those broken pieces, kneeling in a corner of the bridge where everyone is gathered, none of them wanting to be alone, but none of them wanting to pretend everything is all right either. It wasn't broken too badly, all in all. (The arrow or his family?) Just snapped in a few places. Nothing a little bit of soldering can't fix. Groot even helps by handing him tools for a little while, and then ends up falling asleep with his twiggy little limbs wrapped around his tail.

 

At some point Kraglin must have dismissed himself to do something or other, because Rocket can feel Peter standing behind him (his head says _feel_ , though it’s actually a combination of smell and the specific vibrations of his footsteps on the metal of the ship). Peter’s well aware that no one can sneak up on him even when he’s working, so he knows that Rocket’s refusal to acknowledge him stems from wanting him to talk first. 

 

He gives in, because there is no one on this ship who can out-stubborn a creature who endured a lot of shit back in the day just to keep a bunch of a scientists from having any kind of satisfaction about their creation. “You wanna tell me how Yondu got that rig?”

 

It sounds like a question. It’s not. Peter knows the answer. Rocket knows the answer. The only mystery here is why the hell it matters. “I carry a spare in case some idiot ditches his for some reason. So what?”

 

Peter adjusts his weight. Even without looking, Rocket can imagine that pursed lip, frustrated, _stupid_ look on his face. “You let him go.”

 

Rocket wanted it to sound accusing, because he could deal with that, just like he can deal with people’s hatred but he can’t trust love, but Peter just sounds _sad_. Maybe a little lost. Already, he can feel (all the way down to his cybernetics) the urge to snap and be vicious and vile and _cruel_ to make Peter stomp down on every iota of compassion he was stupid enough to dredge up in front of him, but it boils over almost instantly when he looks down at the arrow.

 

_Jus’ a little bit of love reminds you of how big and empty that hole inside you is…_

 

Gods help him, he’s relating to Peter Quill, and he isn’t going to put a stop to it. Who the hell sanctioned _those_ feelings? “I didn’t let ‘em do anything. ‘S what he wanted.” He turns the arrow over in his hands, moving the sensitive pads over the bumps where he sealed the breaks to make sure they’re good and tight.

 

And then he thunks the damned thing against Peter’s leg as he stands up, dragging Groot along for the ride (that little tree can _cling_ ). “I yanked this outta the fire. Consider it your inheritance.” Even the cheap jab has no bite to it. He’s just trying to do something nice with as little preamble as he can, so maybe Peter will be too confused to think about it. 

 

Maybe he’ll get to the point where he’s not fighting love at every opportunity. 

 

Right now, he’s just going to settle for ignoring it as best as he can.

 

\--

 

Ravager funerals tended to take place in specific quadrants that acted as thoroughfares for the marauders. Ravagers didn’t claim _territory_ per say, but they had corners of space that seemed to belong to them more than they did anyone else, and this particular one had always been a favorite post-jump waypoint of Yondu’s particular band of misfits, now down to just one (two if you count Peter). 

 

Empty corners of space all look the same to Rocket, but he can’t deny that for a final resting place it’s not so bad. The funeral prep is still going on down in the hangar and any moment now, he’ll be called to do his part, but right now he’s sitting on the bridge with an open comm link, fingers trailing just above the touchscreen.

 

It’s not his place to let them know, but Kraglin turned pale when Peter suggested that they reach out to Stakar and the other Ravagers to at least say _something_ , and the conversation had been dropped right then and there. For them, anyway, but Rocket heard the whole thing, and, more than that, Rocket’s been playing Yondu’s every last word to him over in his head until they’ve turned into some sort of cautionary tale that he didn’t even realize Yondu was trying to tell him until now. 

 

_What if they don’t come?_

 

Well, what if? Yondu was dead. Yondu was not gonna look down on them and feel disappointed that the people who exiled him made good on their word to keep their distance from an unloved brother. And no one else even knew Rocket was up here trying to get up the nerve to make the damned call. So who was really going to be hurt by this?

 

_Just you, you stupid schmuck._

 

Because in that short span of time that he and Yondu found they had matching demons, Rocket, in his infinite cynicism, wondered if maybe it was already too late for him. That whatever cautionary tale that Yondu’s life had been for Rocket was a moot point, because he was already the living proof that history would repeat itself.

 

If they didn’t come… If nothing that Yondu did to redeem himself mattered, then what the hell was _he_ supposed to do? 

 

Yondu’s death wasn’t even about Yondu, just like Groot’s wasn’t about _Groot_. It was about realizing something matters more than you do, and Yondu may have saved Peter, but he’d tried to save Rocket too, and that’s where his enhanced cerebral cortex starts filibustering, because _why_ did all of these people think he was worth saving? And _how_ was he supposed to make sure their sacrifices were worth it?

 

Maybe, to start with, he could let go of his fear.

 

He begins the transmission with one sharp jab of his clawed finger and starts talking. More specifically, he starts yelling. He doesn’t want to be known as the guy who sobbed openly on the Ravager frequency, so he settles for being the guy who cussed them out in what amounted to his own idea of what Yondu’s eulogy should be. By the end of it, he’s not sure if he’s even still talking about Yondu, but it doesn’t matter, because he ends the transmission abruptly and doesn’t wait to see if he gets a response.

 

Gamora’s calling for him, anyway.

 

\--

 

He goes back to the bridge once Yondu’s body has been left to the incinerator. No new messages- not surprising, but it still hurts. Now that the funeral is over, they’ve all pulled apart and scattered to different corners of the ship to lick their wounds and work out what comes next, and with that comes the loneliness and the fear that he discarded only moments before. 

 

Maybe his sacrifice is leaving before he can hurt anyone else. Don’t give Peter the opportunity to do what Stakar had to do to Yondu. Don’t give the chance to look at him with contempt. Leave while he still has a place. Make it look like it was his decision all along and that he doesn’t care. 

 

Leave before he breaks the code.

 

His eyes trail up to the wide expanse of space laid out before the Quadrant’s bridge, now peppered with a dozen ships that weren't there when he last looked up. Even from a distance, he can recognize the style- the conformity in their nonconformity. 

 

Ravagers.

 

Ninety-nine clans’ worth.

 

He can scarcely breathe until the flashes of light and color start- specialized flares used as distress beacons in other ships, but modified to suit the needs of Ravagers who want to send off a fallen brother. _Stay away,_ they say in the opposite of what those flares are meant to convey, _we are mourning._

 

One by one, the _Quadrant_ ’s bridge fills with people again, all of them eager to investigate the sights and sounds and watch as Yondu gets the send-off he deserves. Rocket is aware of them at his back, though his eyes remain locked on everything outside. A weight seems to ease off his shoulders- they came back. Yondu pushed them away and _they came back_ , and even if it was too late for Yondu to really see it, there’s someone on the bridge of this silent Ravager ship that it means the world to.

 

Maybe it’s his imagination, but the ashes coming from the incinerator seem to take the shape of an arrow, returning to the Ravagers as they mingle with the remaining sparks in the stars. And Yondu’s laugh and his disgusting-ass teeth are clear in his head, saying with paternal gentleness, _”You’re all right, rat. You know what you need- you jus’ gotta let yourself accept it.”_

A sacrifice doesn’t always end in death- not the way Groot and Yondu’s did. Sometimes it means looking at yourself, finding that thing that’s defined you for years, and letting it go. It won’t be easy. He’s stubborn and scared and that chip on his shoulder is never going to heal, but he could do it. He could smash his own defenses to the ground. 

And then he could pick up his own damn pieces for once, and see what he can rebuild from there. 


End file.
